In Your Heart Shall Burn
by crybabydoll1
Summary: She had loved him, trusted him, forsook her clan's traditions for him. He was looking to swallow her world whole. The Dread Wolf wouldn't take her, for she would offer herself to burn in his flames willingly.
1. Chapter 1

The taste of warm Halla milk in her mouth, the softness of woven pelt blankets wrapped around her lithe frame. She could hear the voices of the Keeper and her First behind the folds of her tent. They had questions, ones she could only answer in short, vague snippets. Questions of Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, of the Fade and the Veil between it and the physical world. Questions of her bare face, as lost were the markings of Elgar'nan that she had worn with such pride in her youth.

Her eyes wandered to the wolf pelt at her feet. The very kill that had earned her title as a Hunter within her clan. How ironic it turned out to be. Her slim fingers danced through the black, lustrous fur. Her mother had cared lovingly for the pelt in her absence, it smelled of lavender oils and perfumes. She clutched the pelt to her chest mindlessly, breathing in the scent. It smelled of home, and reminded her of the last loving embrace she'd felt before… She swallowed at the thought. Willing the image to disappear before it could come to mind as she sank deeper into her bedroll.

She could hear soft footsteps approaching, and she rolled to face the opening of her tent, a familiar and very missed face appeared before her.

"Ra'nel." She breathed as the older Healer knelt beside her, a steam pot in hand as her tent was filled with the scent of calming herbs.

"It's been quite a while, Ellana." He sighed, black hair falling down his back as he offered her a cup of honey wine. She sipped it, smiling at the familiar and comforting taste as it left a warm trail down her throat, settling into her stomach.

"Too long." She sighed, mindlessly clutching her pelt closer.

His face bore the markings she once thought intended to honor Dirthamen. The sight made her stomach ache. If he had noticed her reaction, he did her the kindness of not mentioning it.

"You've brought honor to our clan, I'd think you'd be celebrating." He hummed, stoking the small fire beneath the steam pot.

"I find myself a little overwhelmed by it all, by being in the homelands." She whispered, everywhere she looked her culture surrounded her, the culture she had worn so proudly, in her ironbark armour and in her bow, crafted from the branches of her father's grave tree, finding a sour taste in her mouth as everything she once loved had been ripped from her hands by the words of Fen'Harel, be it truth or lie she didn't know. The Dread Wolf had always been depicted as a trickster God, a liar, a _traitor_. Anger settled deep in her belly as she took a long drink of her sweetened wine.

"Truth be told, Little Bow, I'm surprised you returned at all." Ra'nel commented in a hushed tone, away from the prying eyes and straining ears of her fellow clansmen. The old nickname left a warmth in her that she realized she desperately needed, she needed this, she needed to be home, with her people.

"No, this is my home. I needed to be here, I belong here." She murmured, decidedly.

She looked into the amber eyes of her childhood friend. He'd grown in the last year, he was broader, tall even for an elf. It was a shame he'd walked the path of a healer, he would have made an excellent hunter. Though she knew that path wasn't the one in his heart. She remembered her youth, the boy known to have been left teary eyed at the thought of skinning rabbits for stew.

"Ah. I see." He smiled. Packing a small tube of Elf Root paste into his satchel before resting back on his palms, staring at her with those knowing eyes of his.

"What was he like?"

"What?"

"The Dread Wolf, did he try to steal you away into the Fade like your mother always said?" He questioned, waggling his dark brows in humor. If only he knew what she did. Of who Fen'Harel was, and what he had been to her.

"He… was beautiful. He seemed kind and thoughtful, brave and strong."

"Of course he did." Ra'nal sighed, lightly rolling one of her arrows between his fingers, "He is known to spirit away little elven children and weak spirits, how could he do so if he came with wicked words?"

"We see what we want to see, I suppose." Ellana whispered under her breath, the calming steam now thick in the air. Ra'nal brushed back her hair as she faded into the darkness, brows furrowed in concern as he saw the smallest tear glistening in the corner of her eye.

She was back in Skyhold when she found herself again, walking the ruined, empty halls in darkness. Torches cold from what seemed like thousands of years of disuse. She knew this place like the back of her hand, she'd explored this halls on restless nights, pondering on battle strategies and trying not to let the weight of millions of lives crush her. She'd walked these darkened halls with Solas, she could hear his footsteps, calmly matching hers. His presence radiating a kind of peace that kept her from falling apart.

"I thought myself a gifted Hunter, a provider for my people. I have been a daughter, a friend, a leader, and now I'm just a one-armed Dalish, unable to wield a bow and unable to be with the man I love." She smiled, bitterly, to the seemingly unending darkness ahead of her. She was beneath the main hall now, she guessed.

"Vhenan."

His voice echoed through the dark hall. Her eyes remained locked ahead. She couldn't, she _wouldn't_ look.

A pang of warmth against her back, like a ghost. It stole the breath from her lungs.

"Vhenan, please. Look at me."

_No._

"Ar lath ma, vhenan**. **Do not forget this. If you find it in yourself to remember anything of me, please I beg it be this."

_No. Don't look. _

She steeled herself, fist balled at her side. She was facing the mirror to the fade, and staring back at her was her own face. Flushed with tears and wearing the markings of Elgar'nan. She wore a dress of Bonding, eyes glowing with the light of the Anchor, fists desperately pounding at the surface.

Why her mind showed her this, she did not know. She felt the familiar sting of the anchor in the ghost of her lost limb. It left a gasp echoing through the darkness, illuminated only by the ghastly image of the fade mirror.

She felt a familiar coolness within her hand, and looked down to find a bow resting there, She raised it to the mirror, breath ragged as she lifted the ghost of her lost limb. She couldn't draw the string, though she wondered why she felt the desperate urge to do so, perhaps pain, a longing to make the image disappear.

A hand snaked over her shoulder, pale and wound with a very familiar russet pelt. An arrow in hand, it appeared he was planning to draw it for her.

She dropped the bow, flinching away from the touch, no matter how much she craved it. A pleading cry was lost to the darkness as she shot up, eyes staring at her blurry and darkened surroundings. She was back in the Dales, somewhere in the Free Marches, in her hut, tucked safely into her bedroll and surrounded by the fading scent of calming herbs and the scent of a fire wafting in from the outside.

The sounds of the forest resonated through her. She stared at the empty expanse of space that had once been her right arm. Lost from the elbow down it stared back at her, careless of her future and the loss of her status as a Hunter. For now she knew the gods weren't guiding her and only the cruelty of fate had decided that for her. It made it harder knowing that there was no one to blame. What a lonely feeling it was.

"Ma Ellana."

"Mother?" She whispered as the cloth of her tent was brushed aside, a time-worn but soft face greeting her, a small smile touched her lips as her mother took her hand in her own, pressing her forehead to hers, eyes sparkling with joyful tears.

"I'm so happy you returned. It took us long to return from the hunt, I am sorry I wasn't here when you arrived." She whispered, voice thick as she wrapped her arms around her child's shoulders.

"I missed you so much." She whispered into her mother's shoulder.

"You saved the world. Few mothers can say the same of their child." Her mother jested with a knowing smirk, drawing back to examine her child. Her gaze lingered on her amputated limb and though her mouth twisted in disappointment, she never spoke to it. Though when her eyes finally settled on her daughter's face, a small gasp left.

"I had heard that… that Fen'Harel had stolen away your markings, though I…" She stated, eyes filling with tears as she gently stroked her daughter's cheek. "We can replace them."

"You heard what I told the Keeper, mother. The marks… they-"

"I know what the Dread Wolf told you, child." She sighed, kneeling beside the hide chest that Ellana had found locked within the hut when she arrived.

"My child no matter what he told you, there are things unknown to even him." She said, lowly.

As she reached into her armour, pulling a strip of twine holding a rusted ironbark key. "There are reasons we tell our tales by hushed whisper only." She murmured lowly, pulling a small oak box from within the chest.

She recognized the box. As it held her family's marking tools, once used by her ancestors. Her mouth felt dry as her head spun with questions, "Solas, he said that-"

"The apostate 'Solas' told you they were markings of the Forgotten ones, to mark those who would serve. 'Slave markings' were the words he used, is that right?"

She flinched slightly at the bitter tone in her mother's voice as she pulled a few small scraps of yellowed paper from within. Diagrams of markins, earned and worn by the elves for the gods they had chosen to honor. She felt blessed to wear Fen'Harel's marking once, now looking at it made her chest tighten and stomach churn.

"Ma Ellana, the Dread Wolf lies." She whispered, eyes hard as she laid down the diagram of her own marking, it stared back at her in question, a sight that evoked too many emotions to name. A painful mix of the pride she once wore and the shame he had made her feel in wearing it.

"These markings… they _are_ in service to the gods, however, they are so much more than that. They are symbols of protection, of loyalty, those who were devoted to the gods they worshiped wore them to symbolize their favor and status among their people. They protect us from fear and uncertainty. They are a banner to _our_ version of your inquisition. Did you consider your soldiers as slaves?" She questioned.

"But mother-"

"I know the poisoned words he spun to you, of our ignorance and his apparent devotion to the way of the true elf, his promise of freedom for the flat ears. However, beneath those honeyed words is the true intentions of the Dread Wolf. It's no coincidence that he's associated with misfortune and tragedy."

"I don't understand, mother." Ellana pleaded, head spinning as she watched her mother trace the diagram of the marking of Elgar'nan, the very one she herself wore on her sharp features. Her green eyes were darkened with a weariness Ellana had never seen her mother wear.

"We know of the truth, we elders always have. It's a story shared only to a select few. To protect us from the seduction of the Dread Wolf's words. Though, he has not been keen to tempt for nearly a thousand years now, it appears he was dormant during that time, however, if what he told you is to be taken as truth." She laughed mirthlessly, "We… we Dalish chose to forsake the past transgressions of our people. Behind the immortality and the beauty of our cities and our magic, there were secrets. Dark secrets we'd hoped to move forward from." She sighed.

"What… what are you saying?" Ellana whispered, a cold, creeping sensation crawling up her side. Something stirred inside her, coiling like a snake inside her belly.

"The Blood Magic the human Chantry fears so, is not without reason." She whispered, eyes staring into something unseen and far as she stared at the inks and needles lain before her.

"Our immortality was not simply an aftereffect of our magic, the magic that rested within all elves before the Dread Wolf created the Veil." She whispered, "We made poor choices in how we hid the truth, I will admit to that. We are not perfect. Some clans will send mages away from their tribe if there are too many, however it was all we could do to sully the translation of the truth in our stories. We couldn't destroy the past entirely, so we simply made small changes to it."

"Mother, tell me it isn't-"

"It's true. Blood Magic was founded within the glittering, floating palaces of ancient elves. A 'gift' given by Fen'Harel. A gift from distant kin of the Forgotten Ones and our Gods. At the time he was known as a lone spirit, a familiar to the wolves of the Fade. Things weren't so simple then, there were facets of elven mages who grew jealous of the immortality of their Gods, wondering by what right it could be decided who got to live forever and who would return to the land.

Fen'Harel stoked the fires of rebellion- as he is now known for, even to those who do not know the truth, he gave them the recipe for immortality, at a wicked and evil price. He gave them a permanent connection to the Fade."

"But was he not correct in telling me that the Fade was a part of this world, a world where spirits roamed the physical plain? That they lived alongside us?"

Her mother's nose wrinkled in disgust for a moment before she released a deep sigh, "It was. The Fade was a kind of sickness, so strong that if one teetered just ever so slightly towards it, their mind would be lost to the madness within. It is not a place intended for physical beings, impermanent beings. It is intended as a place of rest between life and the land. A place for the restless to remain until earthly pains and angers fade into nothingness, so they may return in their next life without pain. Yet those feelings linger there, consuming all within it. When he offered those mages a permanent connection, their minds faded with each passing day, they turned into bitter, evil beings. Only power could satiate their hunger and Blood Magic was the fastest way to achieve it, they slew friends and foes alike to achieve that goal. Though we remember the golden city fondly in some tales, it was a place of fear and secrecy. Only then did the gods intervene, severing the mages ties to the Fade, thus leaving them in a state of mindlessness, with little left of who they were before the Fade consumed them. It was a mercy that the Dread Wolf despised, one that lead to his eventual betrayal of the very Gods."

"I don't understand, what would he gain by corrupting the minds of mages? He despises the idea that magic is evil in nature, he spoke words of love for the lost cities, for the lost traditions and culture." Ellana pleaded, begging the words of her mother to be untrue, begging them to be more misinterpreted tales of old. They had to be.

"He gained a connection. For all that he is the Dread Wolf is above all else terrified of the loneliness of the Fade. Though he may comfort himself with the company of the spirits lingering there, they too must eventually return to the physical world. When he forced the mages into connection to the Fade, their minds and who they were were doomed to remain there forever, as long as their physical bodies remained they could not return to this world for rebirth. Had the Gods not severed their ties, they would have lived here forever, to wreak havoc on the Gods he so despised and their people." She sighed, "He never cared for the Elven people. He despised us. He despised our Gods and our ability for connection to one another and to the land. He, who was forced to forever walk the Fade alone."

"So how did he come to be if he was unable to leave the Fade? It doesn't make sense."

"He came to them in their dreams, in those days we didn't see him as a force of darkness, just kin to our Gods, unknown and strange we accepted him into our lives and believed his words. Elves of old made mistakes. Too many to count and we Dalish are trying to rebuild. We remember our Gods fondly, and still feel their connection even through the Veil. We remember the Dread Wolf as a force of evil and mistrust, so that he may not approach our kin within our dreams to tempt. He would only appear as we see him, a beast of the Fade coming to snatch us away. The Flat Ears hold no ties to our thick Elven blood and thus they do not risk the threat of corruption, though we weep for them. The Long Walk had been a treacherous one, and not many could live without our Tevinter masters, for some had been broken so hopelessly they could not remember how to return to us, though they are always welcome, as you know."

"He was here though, physical and real and here, mother. I just don't understand." She whispered, lips dry and chest tight as she found herself mesmerized by the unfamiliar diagram her mother held between her fingers, eyes locked with her.

"His magic was weak without his orb, he'd awoken from a long slumber, he was mortal for that time you knew him, he was sickened by this world because his prison was also his home. He knows the powers and strangeness within the Fade, and his faint connection to it must have only affirmed his resentment and desire to trap us within. He wishes to subjugate us just as he claimed our very Gods had."

"And… this marking, mother?" Ellana swallowed, staring at the intricate pattern before her.

"It is Va'Enan, the markings of the Forgotten Ones. We remember them. We know of them, we have not lost a bit of our history, we've chosen to leave it behind and live as we do now."

"This… is too much." Ellana whispered, arm wrapping around her chest in comfort, "I can't forget who I thought he was, and what he said to me. I wish I didn't know any of this. I wish that the Breach had never appeared. I wish life was simple again." Ellana cried, chest wracked with sobs, she'd lost so much in the past year. Friends, allies, love, now she's gained a piece of her past she never wished to remember. All fond memories left a sour taste in her mouth, and she wondered if the sadness would consume her.

"Ellana, Ma Ellana." Her mother whispered into her hair as she held her sobbing child, so like when Ellana was a child, now a Hero of the world and leader of an army, it was a foreign feeling that brought her mother a harrowing sense of time and the progression of things.

"There is more to tell you, but for now, just rest. Hold this to your heart, and the Dread Wolf cannot appear to you, you are safe here with your people. We carry your sadness in our hearts as well, we all will share the weight of your burdens. Known or not."

Her sleep would be fitfull and restless, but there were no visions of the fade mirror nor Solas to haunt her. She was alone in the darkness of her mind, but was that better?

"_May the Dread Wolf take you, isn't that right?"_

"_And so he did."_

They packed up their camp that night, Keeper E'non eyeing her as she rolled her tent, though she said little. A compassion in her eyes that made Ellana ache. She understood the somberness behind the Keeper's eyes now, the secret knowledge that haunts her. Perhaps we all wish for allies in our misery, but somehow she could tell her Keeper felt sympathy for yet another burden the young elf is forced to carry.

"I never pegged you a slow traveller." Ra'nal laughed, landing a hard smack on her back for good measure as he stole the rolled tent from her hand and tucked in beneath his arm, his long hair tied back in a braid as he threw them onto the back of his Halla, a tall beast marked with the markings of her clan, it's spindling horns decorated with green ink. Ellana smiled and stroked the Halla's ear, noticing how the gentle creature leaned into her touch.

"Stop hogging her to yourself, Nal'."

Re'nal grunted as the blunt end of a driftwood staff jabbed him in the side. A head of wild red hair appeared and Ellana found herself in a blur of tanned skin and freckles as she was crushed into the slender chest of Allnan.

"You didn't even stop by to say 'Hello, I'm totally not dead and have one arm now'." The redhead pouted, leaning on her staff. "I've missed you too, you know."

"I was a little tired, it's quite a ride out here, even on a Halla." Ellana laughed, missing the boisterous presence of the elven mage.

"Oh, too tired to say hello but not too tired to enjoy some of my honey wine with Nal'?" She snorted, thumbing at the exasperated looking Healer, now achingly rubbing his side.

"Gods, you left me alone with her." He sighed, shooting a tired glare toward the redhead who simply stuck out her tongue in mirth as she laced an arm through Ellanas, "Your hair has grown so long, I can't believe it's been a year. It feels like only yesterday you were asking me to help you enchant your arrows."

"I think you mean asking you to _stop _enchanting my arrows, Couldn't bring in a boar that had been half incinerated with fire magic, could I?" Ellana snorted, following behind her caravan. Bare feet feeling good on the grass. She wondered how she could have stayed behind stone walls for so long, when her home was right here, among the trees and the Dalish.

The soft feel of the marking diagram rubbed softly against the skin of her chest, reminding her of why she couldn't stay with the inquisition. If the world was going to fall around them, she wanted to be with her people. Her family and friends.

At least, that's what she would tell herself for now.

They travelled for what felt like weeks before they settled into a small grove within the deep forests of the outerland, it was warmer here. She felt thousands of miles away from Fereldan, though she knew better, and worlds away from _him._ Though she could not bring herself to ponder on why that thought left her aching.

She laughed and reguiled tales of new lands and fantastic adventure as elven children and friends gathered around the fire with honey wine and evryn vine to smoke. The air was filled with a familiar and wonderful mirth.

"And what about the flat ear?" A young elven girl giggled, cheeks bright red with curiosity, "did he ask to Bond?"

The Keeper's eyes were on her in a second, and Ellana's face lit up as she realized she'd unknowingly included Solas in her tales, "Ah, no. He went… back to the city, to study magic." She smiled tightly, gently patting the young girl on the head. Though she frowned with the denial of a fairytale proposal, Ellana's story was a sad one and not one she had right or reason to share.

She slipped away from the party, the taste of honeywine on her lips as she wandered through the thick forest, torch bugs illuminating the surroundings in pretty shades of green. It was wildflower season and the scent was thick in the air. It was fresh and crisp, with only the smells of roasting boar and distant sound of laughter to remind her of any kind of civilization.

"I thought I'd find you here, Little Bow." Ra'nal laughed, drunk on honey wine and mirthful from evryn vine no doubt. "It's a ripe season for herbs, you should help me collect some tomorrow. I could use the help, elder Heran isn't as spry as she used to be."

"I recall her pretty formidable with that walking stick of hers." Ellana laughed, eyes catching the faintest drop of glimmering blue in the distance, before it disappeared into the darkness.

"I wanted you to know, Ellana, I know how you felt about the mage Solas, I'm very sorry for… I'm very sorry." He sighed, stumbling over his words the way he always had. He was always a tenderhearted person, but lacked the confidence to voice it eloquently. She admired that about him, he just said what he felt with little fear of how it would come out.

"It was just another trick of the Dread Wolf. Nothing more. Though I lack an arm, I am a Hunter and I should have recognized the hunt in his eyes. I was simply a trapped rabbit for him to play with." She sighed, tongue loose under the effects of strong drink.

Ra'nal placed a firm hand on her shoulder, "I just want you to know, I'm still available for the Bonding if you will not take another."

She sighed, placing a gentle hand over his own. "I don't need you to Bond me out of pity, nor as a way for our parents to be satiated." She laughed, "Besides, she may be too dense to notice but I am not. I know how you feel about Allnan."

Ra'nal made a choked noise as he rushed to hide his blushed face, "Don't be ridiculous, she's so crude and loud-"

"Oh shut up, I'm no fool. You stare at her like a Halla stares at sweetgrass." Ellana joked, lost in the lighthearted mood of the night, hoping in her heart of heart that it lasts.

But things were never that simple.

Travelling the Fade was a task even for him, searching for things in the physical world through walls of emotion and lingering thoughts.

However, it wasn't impossible in any stretch of the imagination. It was a task but he soon found himself in the mind of a young elven mage, in the outskirts of the deep forest as she laughed around the fire. Through her eyes he could see a group of Dalish, their words lost to his ears as he saw her.

The familiar face that had consumed his mind even now, with the task he had at hand. How their blissful ignorance haunted him.

She was a vision illuminated by the orange glow of the firelight, her viridian eyes bright with joy. Her bare face caused a pang in his chest, he recalled when he removed those wretched markings from her and he could not regret a second of it. She stood in her full glory, in the small hide scraps the Dales wore. Her stomach was bare, thin flesh spattered with small scars from battle, legs hidden just barely through the tight leg dressings. Her silvery hair falling in silken curls around her, long white lashes catching the glow of firelight. She was a vision he would drink in like a man dying of thirst. He remembered the taste of her plump pink lips and the feel of her inside his arms.

He had been blocked from her dreams, how he did not know. Even in bestial form he could not appear. When he'd found only blackness when seeking her he'd feared the worst, but he wasn't sure if this would be any better.

She was ruffling the hair of a small elven child, the sight touching his heart so. He longed to give her that life, the life she deserved. He would never claim to have been what was best for her, but every part of his being longed for that to be the truth.

She had slipped away, yet the young mage seemed to follow her, only to find herself watching as a dark haired elven man stood, hand clapped over Ellana's small shoulder, as she held her hand over his own.

She could hardly hear them over the sounds of merriment from the camp, and only caught a few snippets. Enough to hear his proposal for a Bonding. He could not hear her response, the bitterness inside him had cost him his concentration and he found himself lost within the Fade once again.

He roared into the endless wasteland around him, ruins and memories of times he may never see again. He could feel _them_ pressing against the Veil once more and he steeled his heart. Now was not the time to lose control. He had not returned to this world simply to have everything fall apart once again. He would correct his wrong doings. He could not expect Ellana to spend the remainder of her life in torment, she deserved happiness that he could never give her. Why did he continue to torture himself with hopes of seeing that wistful, loveing look of hers upon him once again? Why did he think he deserved it?

Why did he want to eat that dark-haired elf? The low rumble inside him was deep and permeated through the Fade, shaking the ground as he looked down at the shattered remains of his orb. He no longer had the ability to suppress his magic, he had to be careful, he had to be in control of his emotions.

Or he may just accidentally destroy the world he hopes to rebirth.

Ellana woke to the Keeper's First tapping her gently on the forehead with his staff. The elderly male mage was Allnan's uncle, sharing in her wild red hair and tanned features, his ears sharper and longer than most poked through the wild mane.

"Good morning, Little Bow." He laughed, "You are quite a heavy sleeper, perhaps less honey wine next time?" he suggested lightheartedly.

Ellana blushed, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes as she sat up, her limbs aching from more violent fits in her sleep. The elder mage noticed the darkening bags beneath her eyes and softly patted her head, just as he had when she and Allnan were children. She remembered him fondly, as a goofy and tender man, who was every bit as ruthless in battle. He protected his people and loved ones with a ferocity one could not imagine upon meeting him.

"Is something wrong, Kala?" She questioned, untangling herself from her beddings and standing to stretch out her limbs, reveling in the small pops of her stiff joints.

"For once, nothing." He laughed, "Keeper is just looking to speak with you." He said, voice taking on a more serious tone as she realized just what the talks would entail. A subject her heart is not yet prepared for. She doesn't know if she can take any more painful truths. If anyone had it right to begin with. Everything had to be taken with a dose of scepticism anymore. Nothing was fact and she found her heart was to weary for blind trust these days. Right and Wrong seemed like foreign concepts lost in deep philosophy.

"I know you wear a heavy heart right now." Kala sighed, his quicksilver eyes looking at her with a troubled glimmer, "It is a burdon we must carry, and I know one more of many you already have. It is very unfortunate."

"Truth always is, isn't it?" Ellana smiled sadly, wrapping herself in a pelt to stave off the morning chill as she followed Kala through the camp. He was silent for their walk, thoughtful just as he was jovial. A strange combination that reminded Ellana of Varric and his jesting.

She wondered if he was still at Skyhold, torturing Cassandra or if he had returned to Kirkwall with Hawke to help rebuild the city. Though, with the Qunari threat she doubted he would leave the Inquisition's forces. Though he had always complained about the danger she knew he wanted to help repair the world.

It made her chest ache to think of them, to think of the inquisition. She knew why, as they were her friends as much as some of her friends home had been and she missed them dearly, she also knew many didn't understand why she had left. Though Cole probably knew she said nothing, she knew he felt a deep connection to Solas, and it wasn't a wonder why. Cole had lived in the fade for almost the entirety of his existence, it was without doubt he felt a kind of kinship and safety with the Fade Walker, the Dread Wolf.

Her Keeper greeted her with a soft smile, though behind the old woman's eyes she could see conflict.

"Ellana, I'd like to speak to you. As you well know, please sit." She said, motioning to a space beside the fire inside the tent, Ellana sat and watched the dark smoke filter through the opening at the top of the tent, watching it curl and dance as it left.

"Kala, please excuse yourself for a moment." The Keeper nodded, and though he looked apprehensive he bowed his head and disappeared behind the entrance of the tent.

"I'm sure you know why I have called you here, Ellana." The Keeper sighed, "And I must ask something of you, something too grave to ask but something that must be asked. I must also have your silence on the matter, for if the information you gave us is to be taken as fact and Fen'Harel is planning to tear down the Veil, this world and every Dalish and Elf alike is in grave danger."

Ellana swallowed thickly, feeling a very strange sense of deja'vu.

"I know that you have had an unfortunate task already lain upon your shoulders by fate, that your life has already been asked of you too many times, but I must ask it of you once again."

They spoke for a long time, and for most of their conversation Ellana felt lost, felt numb and felt fear. However she remembered Haven and how she was prepared to give her life once for the inquisition to escape, to give the world she knows a fighting chance, what was doing it one more time?

As she turned to leave the Keeper's hut, she paused, "I have a request, Keeper."

"Of course, Ellana. What would you ask of me?"

"Please return my markings of Elgar'nan. If anything, I want to face him wearing them."


	2. Chapter 2

Ellana waited months to make her move, silently learning the ancient words of her people. Only she and the Keeper knew of Ellana's true intent the day she made the climb through the icy mountains, following silently behind the Halla and her people. Her mother and the rest of the hunters stood at the front of the caravan, scouting for the beasts of the wild as her clan made the trek forward, wrapped in pelts to face the unrelenting bite of the icy mountain air. The thick pine forest had a smell to it, one that permiated your every pore and left you feeling lethargic, or perhaps it was the thin air at this altitude, she wasn't certain.

She had more reason than most to feel lethargic, she supposed. A melancholy kind of sadness simmered just below her calm demeanor. She gently pulled her winter robe tighter around her small frame, steadying her breath as the soft, oiled furs sewn within brushed against her flesh. A kind of homesickness she'd felt ever since Solas disappeared into the Fade ebbed in the back of her skull, taking the form of a painful ache that she carried with her in the pit of her stomach, making her lips feel warm and tingly with the memories of chaste kisses that had always left her wanting.

He claimed he would never have bedded her under false pretenses and he sounded so firm in his resolution as he told her so, but she wondered in the late hours of the night what his interpretation of her words had been that day. He had not taken her chastity, but he had freely accepted all else. He'd stolen away her lips with his kisses, taken her mind and heart along with him through the threshold of the Fade, as well as her trust. He'd left her a husk, in his mind, apparently it was alright as long as that husk included her hymen.

Unknowingly, a frown had tugged at her mouth, and beside her Kala offered a light nudge of encouragement. She did little else but nod and shuffle to keep beside the Halla carrying her packs. She absentmindedly stroked it's soft hide, hearing it hum happily in response to the warm touch.

"We're nearing the camp." A hunter called back to the group, who chittered happily as they reached the peak of the mountain.

The sun was starting to fall into the horizon, washing the area in an orange glow. It reflected off the snow leaving a dazzling sparkle in its wake. Ellana swallowed a thick gulp of the crisp air. Letting the scent of snow and pine fill her and all her senses. It would be a long, hard night and no matter how long she had strategized, planned and pondered on this night it was such a daunting task now that it was here. For all she had faced, a simple conversation left her knees shaking as she trudged through the thinning snow.

Her people would be safe here from the Qunari, for the time being, she assured herself. At the very least she could take comfort in that. The Iron Bull had been so kind as to tip her off to their next location, and she found herself glad that she still had some allies to turn to in these times. She warmed her hands around the fire the forward hunters had started, smiling at the small children rolling through the white mounds of snow that were dug back from the campgrounds.

She looked longingly at the view ahead of her, snowy mountaintops and endless evergreen forest surrounded them. She wondered if there would be places like this where she was going, though her memories recalled the vast, dark emptiness that awaited her. Her Antaam-saar armor feeling new on her skin, foreign, the cords winding across her back felt tight and unfamiliar. Her manner of dress usually more conservative, yet she felt freer and more like her old self… the Ellana that existed before the inquisition, though the armor was Qun in nature, it was a representation of who she was now.

Her long, silver-blonde hair was tied in a fat, loose braid that hung messily over her shoulder, defiant wisps of hair brushed her neck and framed her face as she felt for the dagger strapped to her hip. Familiar Halla bone and ironbark felt cool against her fingers and it loosened some of the anxiety in her mind, if only a little. Comfort was a foreign concept to her these days, even among the marriment and excitement of her clansmen at the dwindling shem forces. She couldn't bring herself to applaud the state of the world, knowing it's wrongness the way she does now.

The Keeper met her eyes as from the distance, offering a small nod of the head in the direction of her hut. Ellana dragged her eyes to her mother, then to Ra'nal and Allnan, fussing over something no doubt miniscule in the background and her heart gave a hard squeeze. She longed to go to them, to embrace them and smell the familiar scent of her mother one last time, but she knew it would only complicate things. She had to be resolute, she had to be strong. She had months to wordlessly say her goodbyes, and she couldn't turn back now.

The task laid out before her wasn't simply for her people, but for the sake of the world. She couldn't falter, she had to be certain. There was no room for doubt. In her heart of hearts, a small hope she refused to acknowledge had been blooming, one that would no doubt be snubbed out before it could ever blossom.

In her heart of hearts, she still loved the apostate mage Solas, the farce, the lie, the mask of Fen'Harel. How it hurt, how it pained her to know she loved so deeply something that was never real to begin with. She loved a concept, and idea. Something without a physical form to hold to her heart. She had accepted her foolishness long ago. When she'd found herself leading the inquisition she was still a girl, barely brushing the maturity of a woman and she had reveled in the attention of Solas's wise words and brilliant and daring philosophy, of his wit and his convictions that ran deeper than blood. If there was anything to the Solas that she had known, anything true of him, it was his convictions.

The very convictions that threatened to damn the world out of pride and desire.

Her mouth screwed into a hard line as she slipped effortlessly behind the crowd, not daring to look back as she entered the hut, filled with the scent of calming herbs from the steam pot. A bed of white pelts resting in the center drew her eye and she sucked in a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you more time, but as you know we are being hunted with every passing day. He has caught your scent and the disturbances within the fade tell us he's tried to seek you through the eyes of our clansmen…" The Keeper breathed, somewhat labored with age as she guided Ellana into a resting position, brushing back her slightly curled bangs and tracing the stark white of her markings, glowing against her pinkened cheeks from the bitter bite of the cold.

"He will have questions of your vallaslin," The Keeper warned, noticing the hardness in the young woman's eyes as she nodded curtly, "Don't allow him to catch your scent, not until you're certain, hunter."

_Hunter, _the word left a poor taste in Ellana's mouth. She'd lost her ability to use her bow, and though one could wield a dagger with a single hand… she hadn't felt like a hunter since the Anchor had been removed, just one more piece of herself Solas had taken from her.

"I'm ready, Keeper." Ellana whispered, lip trembling slightly as her hand balled into a fist against her will. The Keeper nodded, reaching into the sleeve of her winter robes and producing a small phial. The liquid inside dark and watery, and her mouth suddenly felt very dry.

"I must apologize, it will be bitter." The Keeper nodded mournfully, pity deep in her eyes as she tenderly brushed Ellana's forehead, "I know this world has asked too much of you already, I deeply regret that our hand was forced into requesting even more of you."

Ellana closed her eyes as the Keeper placed a hand beneath the nape of her neck, lifting her head to empty the phial into Ellana's mouth. It burned her tongue but slipped down her gullet as easily as liquor.

An odd warming sensation tingled through her, a kind of humming feeling that worked from the inside out. Her breathing became shallow and her mind began to slip as she ran her tongue across her dry lips, "You were right… it is bitter." She smiled, weakly as the poison consumed her.

"Remember, Ellana…" The Keeper whispered into her ear, though Ellana found it harder to hear her through the sound of rushing water, "... Don't let him catch your scent."

He'd felt the disturbance in the Fade days ago, a kind of imbalance in weight in his world. At first, he thought it was _them _pressing against the Veil, but now he was certain it had been something else. It wasn't a natural presence, at the least he could sense that. The spirits of wisdom had guided him to the East, but he found himself wondering amongst the ghosts of ancient forests. A place rarely inhabited by any of the races, except the Dalish.

He didn't dare ponder what that could mean as he pushed through the forest, the padding of his feet feeling the ghost of the winter chill that resided in this area. He could nearly smell the thick pines. 

He could hear the faintest melody in the distance, a sound so warming and heart wrenching to his ears. His feet found a pace not of his own as he sprinted through the ghostly forest, spirits of the woods shying away as the ground trembled under his bare feet.

He wouldn't dare hope, the thought alone was devastating. His teeth had buried themselves so deeply into the side of his cheek he could taste the coppery bite of blood on his tongue.

_Please._ His mind cried, for what he wasn't sure. He only knew that the voice was growing closer, and more familiar for it had been a voice that never left his mind, that he didn't think he would ever hear again.

"Ellana."

She stood before him, back bare and chorded with the intricate wrapping of an Antaam-saar, cloth of stark black and knotted chords of ivory blending to her milk-white flesh, silvery hair tossing about in the growing winds of the Fade. His breath was stolen from him the moment his eyes found her.

Her mournful lullaby filled the silence of the Fade, occupied corners of himself he'd thought rotted away with time as his arms instinctively coiled around her small shoulders, his chin coming to rest atop her head as his senses were filled with her scent, of nature and oils and smouldering fire. She felt warm in his arms, real, and his heart palpitated at the possibilities.

"Ellana, vhenan, how?" He whispered into her hair, unable to find the strength to let her go, "How are you here?"

"Solas." She whispered, her voice sounding smaller than he'd ever heard it. The name shot through his chest like an arrow as he felt his heart sink at the quiver in his name, the ache, the pain that he had caused, he was little more than a burning scar on her heart and he had no right to try and remedy it. Her breath was shallow and had a hitch to it as her hand came to rest over his own.

"Close your eyes, Solas." She whispered, her voice rumbling through his chest as his hands slid to his sides.

"_Vhenan_." He warned, he pleaded, he _demanded. _Memories of Haven, of Skyhold, of stolen kisses and sweet, painful words passed between hushed lips wore heavily on his shoulders with a weight that threatened to make his knees buckle.

"Please, Solas."

He allowed his eyes to flutter shut, weakened to the warmth of her voice and the intoxication of her presence.

Soft hands resonated a longed for warmth on his cheeks as he heard a small gasp. She saw him now, in all his glory, as the Dread Wolf her people so feared. She ran delicate, slender fingers artfully down the metallic gold lines that closely parallel from the slope of his chin down his neck and trailed down his bare chest. His breath caught in his throat as she travelled to the border of his trousers, and felt his muscles tighten despite himself. He was weak to her touch.

And in less than a second her mouth found his, her hands both powerful and delicate grabbing fisfulls of his thick robe, pulling him closer with need. He found himself drowning in her, the taste of her lips so familiar yet to foreign. He snaked his hand down the smooth slope of her back, pulling her forward as he fisted his free hand in her hair, feeling the world fall away as he was consumed by her. He drank her in, the taste of sweet wine and something familiar, something he couldn't quite taste.

His body went rigid, as he wracked his brain for that taste, that strange taste.

He shoved her back, seeing her eyes, brilliant and glimmering in their full glory as he stared at her like a doe looks at a wolf. Surprise, fear. His muscles were taught and his hands shook at his sides as he towered over her, "_Ahnsul_?" _Why?_

Her words were caught in her throat, his eyes were the color of honey, glowing so vividly, rendering her unable to think properly. The lavish, heavy hoops of gold that rimmed his pointed ears, the immense russet wolf pelt slung over his shoulder so carelessly, the silken black robes that fell open around his chest, divided so beautifully with gold markings that her stomach ached with want. Gods she still loved him, even after everything that's happened.

"_Ahnsul?" _He repeated, louder. His hands trembled as he gripped her shoulders. His hold on her was so severe she was certain she would have bruises.

She flinched away from the desperation in his voice, trying to find her words, trying to search deep within herself for the strength not to fall to her knees and succumb to the chill that permeated from deep within.

He grabbed her face, forcing her to meet those strange, golden eyes, rimmed so beautifully by sooty lashes. His face was severe, sharp, eyes scrutinizing as he dragged them from her feet to her face, where they widened a fraction before he shook away his thoughts.

His eyes softened, his hands sliding over her shoulders and up the column of her throat to cup her cheeks so tenderly that her heart ached to embrace him, "_Dirth em ra din vindhru_." _Tell me it is not True. _He pleaded so broken that she wanted desperately to back away, to hide from his pain and the look in his eyes because she didn't dare try and interpret it as lovelorn. She wouldn't destroy herself like that again. She had little left to break.

"_Ar'm abelas_." _I'm sorry. _

His brows drew close as he eyed her, "Abelas…" He whispered, confusion marrying his beautiful face before it dawned on him. Snarling he grabbed her arm, yanking it closer to his eyes as his incredulous glare fell on her. Ellana didn't dare look away as she met his look with equal fervor.

"_Ma da' felasil_." _You little fool. _The rage clear in his voice as his eyes flickered with that haunting blue magic, she winced, expecting the worst, yet moments passed and only silence met her. She could hear Solas's breathing, ragged, forced. His control was teetering and she could feel the sparks of untamed magic crackling in the air, making it thick.

"_Ahn is min." What is this? _He demanded, his voice was unknown to her now. Thick and heady with rage. She could see it now, the terrifying image of the Dread Wolf. Terrifying and beautiful and seductive and horrible. He was every bit as Fen'Harel as he was Solas, if not more. She cursed herself for not remembering that.

"I returned to claim the Anchor." She whispered, finally able to shake the quiver from her voice, "You're trapped here, Solas. No more little meetings with the Elvhen. No more secret messages to Briala. It's over."

His fury was unlike anything she'd ever felt and the ground trembled with his low snarl. She didn't flinch away this time. She allowed him his rage. She expected it. She spent months wondering how this encounter would end, and there was no happiness to be found, for either of them.

"It was never yours, how do you suppose you have the right to reclaim it?" He smiled, a sharp, knowing smile as he circled her, she felt every nerve in her body scream 'Run', though she knew better. This was his world. He made the rules and she could never hope to bend them to her will, not after this.

"In the dream." She whispered, "The first time you visited me."

His body went rigid, "Vhenan, you don't realize what you've done." He whispered, "For as long as you hold me here, _you are trapped here with me_." He snarled, snapped, the sound of trees toppling and lightning breaking the green sky made her jump.

Ellana steadied her breath, "I know."

"And you think this is what I desire?" He scowled, he was standing before her, eyes searching her own in anger, in desperation. His face holding torturous pain and it shattered her to see it.

"This isn't about what you want. This is about what the world needs." She whispered, reaching for him, to console, to harm, she wasn't sure because it fell to her side the moment she tried, something that only caused him more pain as he tensed at her rejection.

"I'm sorry, Solas. If it means losing myself to the Fade, if it means leaving the world to mend itself, so be it. Whatever is to come will be my burden and I will carry it no matter the weight."

And with her parting words, Solas disappeared, leaving only clawed paw prints in his wake. She didn't dare follow. He was not a benevolent God, but he was a man who was afraid and heartbroken and she wouldn't pour salt in his wounds. She settled down onto the strange landscape of the Fade, staring at her newly replaced hand.

"I can't believe this worked." She breathed, relief filling her with a warm sensation as she stared out into the ghostly forest, shining eyes of spirits watched her silently. She wondered what they were thinking.

A deep sense of loneliness settled in her. She thought of her friends, of the inquisition, of those never given the chance to be met, and wondered if this was how Solas had lived his life. Good or bad, she pitied him for his wretched loneliness and for how desperately she desired to take it from him.

Solas did not return, nor did she expect him to. She knew he was roaming somewhere nearby. She could feel the slight trembles of his rage shaking the Fade from the distance. She didn't expect a warm welcome, but the kiss came naturally as to her as breathing. She couldn't resist once she'd felt his presence, once she looked upon his face and felt him once again. He was real and he was there and she could only think of all the nights she'd stayed awake wishing she could allow him into her dreams, allow him into a small sliver of her life, for any scraps he could give to her she would have happily accepted.

She drew her knees to her chest. The sky had darkened. She wasn't aware there was a night time in the Fade, but perhaps it was different from Coriphyous's version of the Fade. Perhaps this was what it looked like to Solas. It nearly mirrored her world, with the exception of roaming spirits and strange fauna.

Some time into the night she had found herself wandering. Her feet carried her aimlessly. She wasn't sure how long she had been walking, but found herself in a city most definitely not of her time. The streets were paved with decorative stones, tall buildings crammed together made of perfectly aligned stone blocks and candles lit every window of the city. Ghostly figures passed her, laughing and shrouded behind ever-familiar Orlesian masquerade masks.

In the epicenter of the city she found a grand ball in full swing. She walked barefoot through the swaying gowns and graceful step of men and women entangled in each other's arms. She could smell roasting meats and hear the sounds of merriment, the deafening and beautiful orchestra pounding away, swaying the crystal chandeliers of the ballroom.

She grabbed one of the many stained glass flutes that towered into a graceful pyramid in the center of the impossibly long buffet table, filled to the brim with exotic and lavish food and drink.

The bubbling wine was bitter and tasted strong on her tongue. Her mouth twisted against her will at the strength of it. She watched with curiosity as they brushed along her, simply ghosts of memories as their bodies phased through her entirely, unknown to her presence.

She quickly gulped back the bitter wine, it fizzed in her stomach as she grabbed another. She may as well get drunk. She had no appearance to hold up now. This would be her life. Ellana, she who was stupid enough to fall in love with the Dread Wolf. This was an unfair punishment for simply loving. For her girlish ignorance.

She could feel him, like a thickness in the air. Pulsating through her bones and gravitating her towards him like a mouse to a trap. She made her way across the glittering floors of the ballroom, the tile feeling cool against her bare feet.

She caught his eyes from where he sat, elbows resting on his knees from a velvet couch, a bottle of dark purple liquid clutched by the neck in his hand, as if wringing the life from it.

Her tongue slid across her lips, tasting the strong drink upon them. They were swollen from the bite of the wine and warm from the intoxication. Wordlessly he was calling to her and before she knew it he was outstretching a hand to her.

She took it willingly, allowing him to lead her to the centre of the ball, swaying her perfectly to rhythm of the orchestra, eyes bore into her and seemed to pierce her. The arm he had looped behind her back pulled her forward roughly, her chest crashing against him.

He slowed their dance only momentarily to press his lips to the shell of her ear, "Esha'lin." He snarled breathlessly, making the tips of her ears flash red as she shoved a firm hand into his chest. He stood an immovable object beneath her force, only forcing her face to darken even more.

"I'm not a child." She snarled, eyes flashing with every bit the savagery he no doubt expected her, a _Dalish, _to have.

"To a venuralas? Of course you are." He sighed coldly, eyes dragging away from her face and into the distance as he grabbed her once again, pulling her back into that elegant, deadly dance.

"You have no idea what you've done. What will be lost because of you."

"Nothing is lost. We chose to throw that past away." Ellana voiced, a strength probably fueled by the liquor giving her voice an edge. His grip on her waist became crushing, but the dance continued nonetheless. It reminded her eerily of the dances at the Winter Palace, a bid for power with every step. Though she was no longer the same person she had been there, out of place and dismissed, she was different now. She wouldn't crash against a fate she had decided for herself, she had to remain strong.

Ellana took the lead, annoyed by the bemused expression that passed over Solas's pale features.

"And you had the gall to call me _Flat-Ear._" He laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh that nearly cost her her footing.

"You called my vallaslin 'slave markings'." She hissed, noticing how the corner of his mouth dropped.

"Because they are. What are we if not slaves to the devines?" He questioned solemnly, the edge disappearing from his voice as he ran his fingers down her braid, pulling the leather strip from it's end and letting it fall in loose waves around her body.

She froze as he ran his fingers through it, eyes somber and sad, "If only you knew the cruelty of your gods. You would understand then why it pained me so. These markings," He whispered, running his fingers down the design that cut through her cheeks, "these markings of devotion that you hold so highly places you as their property."

Her breath hitched as his thumb pressed against the plump of her lower lip, tracing the line that divided it, as she had his.

"How it pained me to look into your face, being reminded of _them _when we kissed."

"_Nuva hara harathe Fen'Harel ver em_." _May the Dread Wolf take me._ Ellana whispered breathlessly as her eyes fluttered shut. The wine leaving her face warm as she felt his breath against the nape of her neck in wordless question, she craned in answer as his breath became ragged.

"_I'en so is dy._" _And so he shall_.


End file.
